


Rest for the Wicked

by sunflowerparker



Category: Tom Holland (Actor) - Fandom, tom holland - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Established Relationship, Expeditionism, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Threats of Violence, Vaginal Sex, innocence kink, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29022072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerparker/pseuds/sunflowerparker
Summary: When you go to help relieve some of your boyfriend’s stress prior to a meeting with a rival mobster who can’t seem to keep his eyes to himself, Tom takes the opportunity to remind you who you belong to.
Relationships: Tom Holland (Actor)/Reader, Tom Holland (Actor)/You, Tom Holland/Reader, Tom Holland/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Rest for the Wicked

“Is there no rest for the wicked?” you ask, leaning over the back of his office chair and sliding your hands down the front of his button down shirt.

Tom has been cooped up in his office all day, leaving the bed cold and empty as he snuck out in the dim light of the morning to get things done. When you placed a breakfast tray in front of him once you had rolled out of bed, your usually present boyfriend remained lost in thought, mumbling a quick thank you as his eyes stayed glued to the paper in front of him. You knew he was stressing over his upcoming meeting, so you did not take the lack of genuine response to heart, leaving him to focus on the task at hand. But when the sky started to darken and you had yet to steal so much as a peck from him, you decided to take it upon yourself to help relieve some of his stress, sliding on your comfy but cute pyjamas and strolling into his office to see him.

You can feel his muscles pulled taut under your fingertips as you graze his chest lightly with your fingertips, occasionally giving light little scratches to his chest with your fingernails.

“Mmm,” Tom hums, placing a hand over yours when they come to rest in the middle of his chest. “Especially not for the wicked, darling.”

He plants a gentle kiss to your hand, your wrist, your forearm, trailing kisses as high as he can reach before tilting his head back against the chair and gazing at you with those sweet chocolate eyes of his that can curb even the most intense sweet tooth. “Not when there’s wicked things left to do,” he winks.

“Yeah?” You arch your brow with intrigue. “And what kind of wicked things, may I ask?”

Spinning around in the chair abruptly, Tom yanks on your arm, causing you to fall into his lap with a squeal. As soon as you are sitting on him, he cups your chin in one of his hands, directing your gaze to meet his fiery eyes. “I’m not sure yet.” He pauses, licking his lips. “But I am feeling quite ravenous this evening.”

He kisses you hard, his hand shifting to thread through your hair to hold you in place as his tongue explores your mouth.

When Tom pulls away with a contented sigh, he mumbles against your lips with a little pout playing on his lips. “I haven’t seen you all day. I’ve missed you, darling.”

You swear you suffer from whiplash from how suddenly Tom switches from his domineering mischievousness to his sweet, doting boyfriend side. It makes your heart swell and your core tingle with excitement all at once.

You’re straddling his thighs as you gaze at one another, his salacious hands grazing the outsides of your legs lightly before slipping under your thin shorts and finding the curve of your ass, his warm palms splaying over the soft supple flesh. Your lack of panties seems to spark his keen interest as Tom burns his fingertips into your skin, his hot touch electrifying you. As he kneads and squeezes your bum, your eyelids threaten to flutter closed, barely hovering over your cheeks as you wonder at your handsome and alluring boyfriend.

The top few buttons of his crisp white dress shirt are undone, leaving a peek of his chest muscles on display. There’s a small tattoo under his collarbone with your initial on it, and you can’t help but zero in on it, tracing the black ink with your fingertips in awe. Tom surprised you with it a few weeks ago, and you still haven’t gotten over it yet. Seeing the constant reminder that you are his drawn right above his heart sends your pulse racing like nothing else.

“Did you wear these skimpy little things to tease me?” he tsks, spanking your bum softly, drawing you back to earth. “Naughty girl.”

His face cracks into a sly grin upon seeing your bottom lip catch between your teeth, his expression alone turning you on even more. His husky voice seems to drop even deeper, the chords of his words strumming up an undeniable feeling of lust inside of you.

“My sweet angel is getting into mischief, isn’t she?”

“I just missed you s’all,” you admit rather truthfully, doing your best to muster an innocent look on your face. Tom doesn’t buy it – he never does – and his smirk widens as you toy with the collar of his shirt. “Can I not come see my boyfriend when I haven’t seen him all day?”

“Oh of course you can,” he says, playing into your naive guise. “You can sit right here on my lap while I finish up my work.”

A whine immediately falls from your mouth, and you bite your lip sheepishly at giving yourself away so soon.

It’s almost a game the way you act all coy about what you really want in front of your boyfriend – the way you used to be before you finally let him in after months of respectful persuasion, introducing you to a world of pleasure you had never known before. He was the first one to ever coax timid little moans from your lips climax after climax until he finally proved to you that he would take care of you – gentle and sweet, quick and rough, slow and sensual – however you wanted and as many times as you wanted. Tom knows what you want – he always does, he can read you like a book – but he seems to enjoy the tease almost as much, if not more, than you.

“Is there a problem with that, lovie?” he asks, amused brow arched and awaiting an answer.

Your hands trail down his shoulders to his chest, running down the soft fabric hiding his impressive physique. “No,” you mumble quietly, curling into his lap.

Scooting his chair back to his desk, Tom returns to work, your figure folded into his lap as you observe the way his eyes return to the stacks of files in front of him. You decide to leave him be. The pile truly does look daunting, and if the bags under your boyfriend’s eyes are any indication of how exhausted he is, you truly want nothing more than for him to finish so you can have his undivided attention for a little loving stress relief.

As Tom reads the papers and occasionally jots down notes here and there, your head rests on his firm shoulder, planting feather-light kisses to his neck intermittently just to remind him you’re here for him. His fingertips of his free hand trace absentminded circles on the skin of your back, his hand dipping beneath your top to feel the soft touch of your skin. He looks so attractive so intently focused on his work in front of him that you can’t help but start to squirm in his lap.

Knowing exactly what is going on inside your head, Tom shifts his hand to grip your waist firmly, giving it a punctual squeeze. You nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his musky cologne as you try to sit still.

You manage to make it a few more minutes before you begin to wiggle around again, not finding a comfortable position due to the growing ache between your legs. Being wrapped in his defined arms is not helping anything, and as soon as Tom’s fingertips start to dig into your side, you lose all self-control.

You reposition yourself in his lap, straddling his thighs again. But Tom merely tilts his head to look past you, eyes locked on the file in front of him. His brows remain furrowed as he reads intently, and you can’t help but draw your hand to his face to smooth over the seemingly permanent crease in the middle of his forehead. When Tom’s eyes flit up to you, you hold your breath. They dance with a hint of annoyance but you understand your boyfriend better than anyone to know that he’s just as much irritated as he is daring you to keep going.

So you oblige his silent challenge, trailing your finger down his face to hook under his chin. You slowly dip your head and fuse your lips together, though your boyfriend only kisses you back for a few seconds. When he pulls away, Tom sighs, gnawing on his bottom lip as he looks you up and down as if he’s deciding what to do with you. It draws excitement to your face in the form of a satisfied smile, but Tom is quick to wipe it away as he announces what’s on his mind.

“I thought about bending you over my desk as soon as you walked in here with those scanty little things you call shorts, but-” He swipes his thumb over your protruding bottom lip. “Oh don’t pout, lovie. Only angels get to be fucked properly, you devilish little thing. And you know that already.”

You sigh defeatedly as you watch Tom’s gaze return to his work, and you squeeze your thighs together in a sorry attempt at chasing relief.

You manage to sit in his lap like the angel he wants you to be for a few fleeting minutes before one of your hands starts to drift downwards. You eye Tom out of the corner of your line of sight to ensure his attention remains on the files, not on you. As you finger reaches your shorts, you slide the thin fabric aside, trailing your digit between your sex, collecting your arousal. You spread your wetness over your bundle of nerves in as stealthy movements as you can manage, slowly circling your bud as you bite your lip to suppress any noises you might make.

You think you are being careful, but as soon as you let a sharp inhale escape your mouth, Tom’s hand clamps over your wrist, halting your movements. You peer at him through your eyelashes, batting them at him in a feeble attempt to mollify him. The look in his eyes tells you he is not amused, and you shift in his lap as you await a reprimand of some kind.

“Darling,” he states more than asks. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You swallow hard as his grip on your wrist only intensifies with your silence. But your voice still manages to catch in your throat. “I- I couldn’t help it.” When Tom draws your hand out of your shorts, your cheeks start to heat up. You are soaked and he hasn’t even touched you – that fact evident in the way your finger is coated with your wetness. “I haven’t seen you all day, and-and I fuck you’re just so attractive I can’t help myself.”

If it had been any other day where you had actually seen him for more than a few minutes, you are certain your boyfriend would not have indulged you as he did today. But you see Tom’s pensive face mull over your words, his features softening as you confess the truth – that he truly is too attractive to resist and your soaked shorts are all the evidence he needs to be convinced of that fact.

When you notice he’s about to cave, but his gaze flickers back to the work on his desk, you offer a tender kiss to his cheek to sway him.

If there is one thing in this world Tom can never resist, it is his girl begging for him. He never thought he would live to see the day his innocent angel would be the one to initiate anything, your soft temperament causing you to retreat in your shell anytime he even dared to casually mention sex in the early days of your relationship. It did not deter Tom at all. Instead, it alighted a challenge – he needed to prove himself to you with trust, honesty, and adoration. Which is exactly how he won you over in the end. His persistence paid off, and now the two of you have open communication in regards to sex though he still loves the way your eyes go wide when he suggests trying something new in the bedroom.

Tom reluctantly pats his thigh, rolling his eyes. But you catch a glimpse of the smug smile tugging on the corner of his lips as you situate yourself to straddle one of his toned legs.

“Ride my thigh like the needy little thing you are,” he permits gruffly, your innocent pleas leaving his throat feeling suddenly dry. “I don’t have the time to punish you right now.”

You don’t dwell on the last half of his remark as you immediately start grinding against him, your wetness ruining both your shorts and the expensive dress pants Tom is wearing. But you’re desperate, and you frankly don’t care about either of those things as you roll your hips over the bulging muscles of your boyfriend’s leg.

The friction burns beautifully, and you increase your pace as you hump and slide across his leg chasing your release. Your eyes pinch close as Tom gulps, the sight and sound of you enough to drive him mad. But he has work to finish, he can’t let you distract him just yet.

Tom’s eyes return to the paperwork, and you frown as you are determined to tug his attention towards you so you can finally convince him to relieve some stress properly. As much you enjoy the sensation of your clit rubbing against the fabric of his pants, you want Tom to feel pleasure too, you want him to bend you over the desk and fuck you like he so cruelly admitted he desired.

So you throw your head back, rocking your hips and moaning his name rather loudly. It’s only a little exaggerated because as soon as those lustful brown eyes are fixed on you, they are genuine and undeniably real.

Tom’s large hands come to rest on your hips, guiding your movements as his eyes dart back and forth between the page and your sex grinding against his thigh. It is all he can do to restrain the will to swipe his arm across his desk, clearing it off, and bending you over the desk right then and there.

But you’re still not entirely satisfied. You crave his undivided attention. So you begin to bounce a little bit as well, your tits bouncing freely under your shirt, having left all of your undergarments in your shared bedroom earlier.

“Fucking hell,” you hear Tom mutter under his breath. It is getting more and more impossible for him to ignore the strain in his trousers as you put on a little show for him.

As you roll your hips more, Tom is unable to look away, his attention finally fully on you and the way you are falling apart on him so beautifully, so carelessly. It gets even better when he starts flexing his solid thigh muscle, the feeling rubbing your bundle of nerves just the right way.

The way your shorts are absolutely ruined does not go unnoticed by your boyfriend who licks his lips when he eyes the soaked fabric scrunched to the side to allow your clit to rub directly onto his pants. “Angel, you’re wrecked for me,” he coos, running his hands up under your shirt to grab at your tits. Tom pinches and twists your nipples, the sensation sending you to euphoria as your high races towards you. “Are you going to fall apart on just my leg? Hmm?”

You wordlessly nod your head yes, pants leaving your mouth as your pussy starts to clench around nothing, your release just out of reach.

“Fuck. I couldn’t help but neglect my work. Look at you for fuck’s sake.” He leans his weight to the side, digging around in his pocket. “Only one thing that could make this better.”

Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, Tom flips open the box, pulling out a white stick. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he reaches to his desk for his lighter, flicking the flame to where it dances over the end of the cigarette, lighting it in amber before it flicks off, Tom tossing it back onto his desk. He leans back in his chair, taking a long drag from the stick and releasing the smoke off to the side away from you. You’ve never liked it when he smokes, especially in the house, but as he’s sat studying the way you move yourself over his thigh, chasing your own pleasure as his hard cock aches beneath his pants, he is as attractive as ever. Tom’s eyes burn into you like the end of a cigarette, and you can practically feel them travel over every single inch of your figure.

The familiar feeling in your core builds, and with a few more rocks of your hips, you come undone, rubbing against his leg weakly with trembling legs as you come down from your high. Tom flicks his cigarette over his ashtray as he watches you closely. “That’s it, angel. Making an absolute mess on me, aren’t you?” He swears he can watch you like this until the end of his cigarette disintegrates in his hand with the way those sinful noises tumble so freely from your divine lips. And Tom is not ready to have them stop anytime soon.

“Did you like using me, hmm? Did you like the idea of distracting me from my work? I bet you did, you bad bad girl.” With one last drag from the stick, Tom leans forward to stub out the cigarette, releasing the smoke into the already hot air between you. Your chest is still heaving, but Tom pays you no mind. “Go stand over there.”

You follow his finger to the side of the room in front of his desk. You pass him a look of confusion to which he merely arches his brows and gestures you away with a flick of his wrist.

Taking a shaky breath in, you stand on wobbly legs, cramped from sitting in his lap for so long, sore from guiding yourself across his leg, and unstable from the release that shook you. You walk over to where Tom points, tugging at the end of your ruined shorts to look a smidge more presentable.

You watch as Tom stands from his chair, rolling it over to the opposite end of the room. He hoists his pants legs up, pulling the chair under him and sitting down. Resting his elbows on his thighs, Tom leans forward with a new unlit cigarette dangling between his middle and index finger, leering at you from across the room.

“Dance for me, little minx.”

Your cheeks burn at the command, and you look at the floor in front of you as Tom marvels at you. He didn’t necessarily want to see you dance, but he did want to observe the way you react when he suggests something like that out of the blue. It reminds him all over again how far the two of you have come in your relationship, and how bloody lucky he is for you to open up to him and trust him with new and exciting things.

Just as you open your mouth to inquire what exactly Tom means, the sound of a car door slamming shut draws both of your attentions away. Tom stands from the chair, walking over to peer out the window, scowling when he sees who arrived.

“Who is it, Tommy?” you ask, shuffling over to get a peek yourself.

In the drive below, a black car is parked by the fountain, a few burley men standing around with smoke curling out of the ends of cigarettes. When it dawns on you who it is, you understand why Tom’s face is painted with such disdain.

The last time the leader of the Birmingham-originated mob came to the mansion, he made some inappropriate remarks to you before he realised, much to his dismay, that you were Tom’s girl. And while his comments no longer persisted, his eyes never left you as Tom insisted you stay in the conference room with him so he could keep an eye on you.

“Oh,” you say with your realisation. “Him.”

Your boyfriend grits his teeth, jaw twitching as he stares him down from above. “If I could put a fucking bullet in between his eyes I would.”

Your eyes widen at the statement, and you’re not going to lie to yourself. It definitely turns you on seeing how protective Tom gets over you. He and you both know that no one would ever come between you – your connection is undeniably strong and authentic. You would even dare say you are made for each other. But the way the thought of another man looking at you brings a murderous glint in his eyes has you wet all over again.

“He can’t keep his motherfucking eyes to himself,” Tom huffs, folding his arms across his chest.

He almost looks cute when he pouts, but you know that he would not hesitate to actually put a bullet in the man’s head if it were not for the treaty between the mobs.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you step in front of him, studying the way his eyes soften when they flit back to yours. “Tommy, you know I’m all yours.”

“I know that, but he can’t seem to get that fact though his thick fucking skull.”

“Tom-”

His arms unfold, hands finding your hips in an instant, pressing your back against the cool glass of the window. A tiny gasp escapes your lips as he does so, and your heart begins to flip beneath your ribcage.

Tom’s gaze is heavy and predatory, and the warmth in his eyes has ignited to flames as he looks you over hungrily. “I’m going to show him you’re mine,” he growls.

His lips attach to your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin as you tilt your head to the side to give him more room. The marks he leaves start out small and tame, but quickly grow to larger and more noticeable marks as your boyfriend litters love bites up and down the column of your throat. Tom is quick to soothe as soon as he finishes one, running his tongue over the spots of affection until you’re a whimpering mess in his arms. You are his angel, and he is going to show that vulgar man who you belong to in a way he will never forget.

Reaching for the hem of your shirt, Tom pulls the thin fabric over your head. You squeal as your back is pushed against the chilly window once more, this time on your bare skin. Tom hastily covers your mouth with his, cupping your face in his warm hands, bringing heat back to your body.

The words your boyfriend spoke earlier rings in your mind as he slides his tongue into your mouth. I’m going to show him you’re mine. The hickeys you expected, but this? Is he actually about to fuck you against the window for the other mobsters to see?

His kiss is sloppy and tenacious, not leaving much room for air as he steals the breathe away from your lungs. And suddenly the thought of Tom showing the world that you are his is all you can think of. You want the crude man – and everyone else – to know that you are Tom’s and he is yours.

So when Tom pulls away to mumble against your lips, you already have your answer. “Are you going to let me fuck you against the window? I want him to see exactly what he is missing out on. I want him to see you writhing from the pleasure that I and only I give you. Hmm, angel? I promise I won’t let him look at you the way he did ever again. Especially not in my bloody house.”

Between the frigid glass against your back and the darkening look in his eyes, a shiver shoots down your spine. You nod your head a little, and seeing the way Tom’s eyes light up at the consent, you verbalize it. “Yes please, Tommy. Take me against the window and fuck me until I can’t walk properly.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Tom spins you around, your tits pushed against the window, the cool glass on your stomach. Another shiver trails through your body as the contrast from his hot hands and the temperature of the window sends your head spinning.

Tom takes a moment to drink you in. His girl with herself on display for his rivals to see. His beautiful, flawless angel who wants to be fucked silly for the world to see as much as he does. He sucks in a breath as one of his hands brushes your hair to the side for his mouth to leave one last obvious mark at the base of your neck.

As Tom pulls away, his sultry breath on your shoulder prompts a mewl from you, the teasing sensation of his presence behind you but not yet doing anything to you leaves your knees weak in anticipation. You have yet to glance down at the drive below, but you can only imagine the shocked looks on the men’s faces if they are to look up and see you half-naked in the window.

When you finally sense Tom’s hand snake between your parted legs, dragging the loose fabric of your shorts to the side, you lean your forehead against the window to keep you grounded. You’re sensitive already from riding Tom’s thigh, and as soon as he swipes a digit in between your slick folds, a low moan slips out of your mouth. Tom chuckles at how responsive you are to his touch. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re well excited to be fucked against the window, eh?”

“Please, Tommy,” you beg as he slides his finger up to your bundle of nerves, teasing circles around the bud.

“Wicked girl. But you’re still my angel.” You hear the jingle of his belt loosening, and the scrunch of his trousers being shoved halfway down his thighs. “I won’t let you forget it.”

With a few hasty pumps of his length, Tom pushes his hard cock into you slowly, your mouth dropping open and back arching as you feel every part of him fill you completely. Your hand instinctively slaps at the window, the need to brace yourself against something a no longer feasible task. The feeling of your boyfriend inside of you never gets old, the way he stretches you like no one else has, his touch the only one to ever send your nerve endings alight.

Your hot breath fans against the window, fogging it up as Tom grunts once he bottoms out. “Fucking hell. You’re always so tight for me, y/n.”

He runs his hands over the expanse of your back, trailing his fingertips up the curve of your spine, wrapping around to your front to glide down your stomach no longer against the cool window. Your skin feels like it is on fire despite the cold glass, and you feel yourself clench around him as his hands squeeze at the supple flesh of your bum. “I want it rough, Tommy. I want you so bad.”  
He curses again, firm hands grabbing hold of your waist as he starts to move inside your pulsing center. “If that’s what my girl wants-” you gasp as he pulls almost all the way out only to thrust harshly all the way back in “-then that’s what she gets.”

He guides your hips, slamming you back to meet his rough, deep strokes. Your hands grab at the edge of the window, knuckles aching already from the pressure in which you cling onto the wooden frame. With Tom’s swift movements, your body rocks against the window with each relentless roll of his hips. And if it wasn’t for his firm hands keeping you in place, you would not have been able to stand while his cock pounds into you at such a vigorous pace.

His belt dangles in between your legs, the noise of its jingle mixing with your moans as your walls close in around him every time he brushes over your g-spot. And the sound riles you up even more than you thought possible. It’s animalistic the way in which he didn’t bother to completely undress either one of you, the need to show the men you’re his too overpowering to bother with the removal of clothes. And though you can’t see them, you’re certain your shorts are completely ruined now.

“Tom,” you whimper. You can smell his rich cologne waft into the air as a thin layer of sweat starts to coat his muscular and clothed physique. He’s panting and grunting loudly behind you, and you can almost picture the way his tongue is bit between his teeth in concentration, brows furrowing as his hard cock disappears inside of your wet core.

“You like this, don’t you? You like being fucked for the world to see.” Skin slaps against skin, the window fogs, your moans pierce the stuffy air. “I can feel the way you clench around me nice and snug. I know you’re not as innocent as you look.”

His hand falls over your ass, and you yelp at the sting his unexpected touch leaves. “But that’s just for me. You’re a dirty girl just for me, angel. So fucking perfect.” His hand lingers on your ass, and Tom kneads at the skin as he leans back, watching the way your wetness coats his cock every time he thrusts into you. “What a bloody sight. I wish it was all for me.”

At the implication of the men, Tom’s pace increases, your erect nipples squishing almost painfully more and more into the glass.

“I’ve got to show them you’re mine. You’re all mine,” he growled. “No one else can have you.”

A whine leaves your lips, and you can only nod as you take his punishing pace from behind, the coil in your core building quickly.

Whether it is your already sensitive heat or the way your boyfriend is acting so possessive over you, you can’t decipher. But either way, you are dangling on the edge of release already, and Tom can sense it by the way your walls clench around him as the flushed tip of his cock drags over the spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.

Your hand is cramping, and your bum stings when Tom’s hand smacks the same place as earlier. You cry out in pleasure, your eyes pinching shut as you let the sensation of Tom’s movements override your senses. If there was any doubt about whether or not the men below can hear or see you before, it is gone now. You’re a crumbling mess for Tom as you spill curses out of your angelic lips and utter a mantra of “Tommy, don’t stop” on repeat.

“I’m not stopping until you’re a bloody mess for me. Cum for me. Give it to me, angel.” Tom is determined to hear you scream his name so loud that the whole mansion can hear, and he doesn’t let up as he snakes his hand around to your clit, rubbing quick harsh circles to your throbbing bud.

The way you’re squeezing him has Tom biting his bottom lip so hard he tastes metallic trying to hold out until you fall apart for him. The thought of the men seeing you being fucked by him, his marks littering your neck, has his aching cock pulsing as it waits for release.

His fingernails sink into your side as your walls contract around him while you cry out with his name when you fall apart. And as soon as your legs start to quiver, Tom let’s go as well, his cum painting your walls as his thrusts are focused, rigid, and deep. He ensures to work you through your entire release, not stopping until the feeling of your walls clenching around him becomes faint and his cum drips down your inner thighs and onto the fabric of your shorts.

“You’re fucking wrecked for me, y/n. Look at you.” Tom pulls out of you slowly, and you whine at the loss of his touch. You can feel your soaked shorts clinging to your inner thighs, but when you look down you did not expect to see the huge wet spot in the crotch of your shorts, the fabric rumpled and darkened from the two of you’s escapades.

“Fuck,” you breathe, chest still heaving.

The two of you redress, and you’re about to open your mouth to tell him you need to go change when a knock sounds at the door.

“Come in,” Tom calls out.

You pass him a bewildered look, not believing he just gave someone permission to come into his office and see you in this … state. He merely shrugs his shoulder as he finishes fastening his belt, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“It’s not like they didn’t see already,” he teases, earning a playful smack to his shoulder. “Ow, hey!”

Harrison cracks the door, poking his head in but not daring to make eye contact with either one of you. That alone has your cheeks burning. He definitely heard if not saw something, and you can only imagine how unbelievably awkward the next couple days are going to be like around the mansion.

He clears his throat, eyes trained on the floor. “They’re ready for the meeting in the conference room when you’re … done.”

“Thank you. We’ll be right down.”

As soon as Harrison closes the door behind him, you give Tom another confused look. “We?”

Tom snickers, walking up to you and cupping your face in one of his warm hands. “You don’t honestly think I’m going to fuck you like that and hide you up here like a goddamn plaything.” You gulp as you meet his fiery eyes still alight with passion. “You’re mine and they need to know you’re mine.”

“But, Tom. My shorts-”

“Leave them. We don’t have time to change.”

Your boyfriend takes a hold of your hand, walking with you down the stairs to the conference room where those vile men await behind closed doors. Your heart is racing, and your cheeks feel like they’re on fire at the idea of them seeing you like this. But it’s almost exciting with how daring Tom is acting, just wanting to show you off to the world. Maybe it’s a tad excessive, but you don’t care. In this world, you can never be too careful about someone eyeing something that belongs to you and you suppose you are no exception to that notion.

When you and Tom walk through the doors hand-in-hand, all eyes remain glued to the table and papers before them, not a single set of eyes daring to follow you as Tom sits at the head of the table, pulling you into his lap.

“Well,” Tom sighs, looking around in smug satisfaction at the sheepish expression adorning everyone’s face. “Let’s get started shall we?”

And you spend the entire meeting on Tom’s lap, wet stain on your shorts and marks all over your neck to show the man just who you belong to and a not so subtle reminder to everyone else that you are Tom Holland’s girlfriend and that fact should not be forgotten.


End file.
